


You Don't Have To Admit (You Wanna Play)

by writetherest



Category: The Devil Wears Prada
Genre: F/F, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writetherest/pseuds/writetherest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Besides, he's Justin Timberlake. If he wanted to rip my clothes off, I'd let him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Have To Admit (You Wanna Play)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Pile of Stuff Ficathon prompt: Miranda/Andy, wardrobe malfunction. A lot of the concert things were based heavily on Justin's FutureSex/LoveShow Live from Madison Square Garden DVD, although I did tweak things to suit my needs.

Andy was just entering her 30th hour without sleep when her cell phone rang. While still frantically typing with one hand, she grabbed the device, hit the talk button, and shoved the phone between her ear and shoulder, her other hand quickly joining back in the typing.

"Andy Sachs." She greeted, her mind more on the words she was typing than on who could possibly be on the phone.

"Are the pictures on Page Six true?"

Andy's hands skidded across the keys. "Miranda?"

Ten months, two jobs, and two phones ago, Andy would've known it was Miranda just by her ringtone alone. This was not the case anymore, however, and she found herself caught quite off guard by the icy tone in her ear.

Miranda, never one to repeat herself, let out a long sigh that Andy knew clearly meant danger. "Well, Andrea? I don't have all day, you know."

Ten months, two jobs, and two phones ago, Andy never would've dared question Miranda about anything. But times had most definitely changed, and Andy had a deadline to meet in a little under an hour.

"Miranda, I honestly don't know what you're talking about. I've been awake for about 30 hours now and I haven't had time to grab a cup of coffee, let alone a newspaper, so either you're going to have to be more specific about your question, or you're going to have to ask me after I've had some sleep."

A click sounded in her ear, signaling that Miranda had hung up. Andy sighed, let the phone drop, and went back to typing frantically. She would worry about the mysterious call from Miranda later. Right now, she had a deadline to meet.

**

After she'd filed her article and managed to somehow get back to her apartment and fall into a dead sleep for about six hours, Andy found herself thinking back on the phone call from Miranda. It was unusual, to be sure, but not completely out of the ordinary. After a few months of the icy silent treatment, Miranda had called her out of the blue to give her a back handed compliment about one of the articles she had written for The Mirror. Since then, they had spoken occasionally and even gone out for meals once or twice, although it was always a surreal experience for Andy.

But Andy was confused about what Miranda had been calling in regards to. Pictures on Page Six? What did Andy know about what was going on in the world of celebrity gossip? She considered going out to buy a paper and examine it, or calling Miranda back now that her brain was fully functioning again, but in the end, she decided against both things. She had recently been handed an assignment that, if all went well, could send her into the stratosphere as far as her job went. That needed to be her sole focus right now. If Miranda was really that concerned about whatever was on Page Six, she would call back.

**

The Runway offices buzzed with activity, but Miranda sat in her office paying little attention to it all. She had turned her chair towards the windows that offered a wide view of the bustling streets below her. In her hands she held a copy of the Post, turned to Page Six. There, in black and white, taking up most of the page, were pictures of Justin Timberlake having dinner and leaving a restaurant with a young woman whose face was obstructed in all the shots. The article speculated that Timberlake was dating the woman in the pictures, although it was unknown who she was.

Miranda knew though. She would bet her life, or better yet, her magazine on it. The flowing dark locks that obscured the woman's face belonged to only one person.

Andrea Sachs.

**

It wasn't until two days later when more pictures appeared of Justin and his 'mystery woman' leaving another restaurant, this time with her profile visible, that Miranda called Andy back.

"Andy Sachs." She greeted, more alert and aware this time of who exactly was on the other line.

"Are you dating that… that boy?" Miranda asked without preamble.

Andy was caught off guard by that though. "Wh-what?"

"The musician… are you dating him?"

"Who…? Miranda, why would you think…?"

"There are pictures on Page Six. They might not know who you are, but that does not mean that I don't."

"There are pictures on Page Six? Of what?" If she'd still been working for Miranda, she'd have long been fired or murdered for asking so many questions.

"Of you leaving a restaurant with that _boy_ , Andrea. Surely you remember, as it happened last night, and I know how much you enjoy eating."

Miranda still knew how to sting her, even now, but Andy ignored the comments, instead turning to head in the direction of a newsstand.

"I do not appreciate repeating myself, Andrea." Miranda huffed a minute later when Andy still had not answered her. She was in the middle of paying the newsstand attendant for the paper.

"Oh wow." She said, as she looked at the pictures and the article.

"I take it you've seen them."

"Yeah. I just… wow." Andy giggled as she looked at the pictures and read the article. They were reporting that she was dating Justin Timberlake? Really?

"You find this amusing, Andrea?"

"No, I – well, yeah, sort of. It's just…"

"Are you, or are you not, dating him?"

There was a sharp edge to Miranda's voice that Andy recognized. It meant that she was getting very frustrated very quickly, but also that she cared very much about the outcome of the conversation. But how could that be? Why would Miranda care one way or the other about who Andy was dating?

"Miranda, you know better than anyone that half of the things they print on Page Six are –"

"Are you dating him?" Miranda's voice was a hiss, and Andy swore the words froze her ears.

"Would it be so difficult to believe that I am? And why does it matter so much to you who I date anyway?"

"The man ripped a woman's clothing off on national television."

Andy couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. "Miranda, that was years ago, and you've had models wearing less in Runway. Besides, he's Justin Timberlake. If he wanted to rip my clothes off, I'd let him."

The click in her ear seemed extra loud this time.

**

Two days later, when pictures of someone who was obviously Andy and Justin entering the high end apartment complex he was staying in while in New York one night and pictures of just Andy leaving the next morning in decidedly different clothing surfaced on Page Six, Andy expected a phone call from Miranda.

However, it seemed that Miranda was the only person that she knew that didn't call her. Her phone rang off the hook all day, but never once did Miranda try to contact her. Andy wondered at that, but didn't have much time to dwell on it. She had other things to worry about.

**

"Emily." Miranda's voice was deadly quiet, which Emily knew meant that whatever was about to be said would not be good for her in the least. "The girls have decided they want tickets to the Justin Timberlake concert at Madison Square Garden. Get them for the three of us. With full backstage access, of course."

Emily's mouth opened and she stopped herself from saying something just in time. Everyone knew that the Justin Timberlake concert was being taped for HBO and tickets had been sold out for weeks. It would be nearly impossible to get good tickets and secure full backstage access at such a late date. The concert was the following evening.

"I love my job, I love my job," Emily repeated as she sat down at her desk, trying to figure out who she could call to make this happen.

"And Emily? I want the tickets on my desk in an hour."

Emily wished she had a piece of cheese nearby, because she suddenly felt very faint.

**

"Andy Sachs." Andy was out of breath when she answered her phone.

"Yes, well, Andrea, it's Emily. From Runway. I – you see – you know how Miranda can be and I –"

"Em? I know who you are. And whatever you need… just spit it out, okay?"

"Miranda is demanding tickets for her and the twins to the Justin Timberlake concert tomorrow night at Madison Square Garden."

Andy blinked. "And you're calling me because…?"

"Oh for god's sake! Andrea, I've seen the pictures on Page Six. You're obviously dating the man, or at the very least shagging him. Surely you can get me tickets."

"Em, I'm not –"

"No, no, no. You cannot do this to me. You cannot refuse to help. I need these tickets, Andrea. Within the hour. This is my bloody Harry Potter!"

Andy wanted to argue that, to tell Emily that she was wrong, that this was nowhere near Harry Potter proportions. Harry Potter had been impossible. This, while difficult on short notice, was not at all impossible. There were scalpers and ticket vendors all over the city where Emily could get tickets for the show, she would just have to pay a ridiculous price for them. But she could hear the absolute panic in the redhead's voice and decided to cut her a small break.

"Three tickets?"

"And full backstage access."

Andy whistled and couldn't help but wonder why Miranda was demanding this now. "Jeez, Em. I don't know if I –"

"Please, Andrea."

And she knew that Emily had to be desperate if she was saying please to her. "Give me twenty minutes." The phone clicked off but Andy was fairly certain she heard a relieved sob before it did.

**

Twenty three minutes later, Emily sat at her desk cursing Andy Sachs. Twenty minutes she had said. Obviously she found it amusing to toy with Emily. She was probably jealous that Emily was still working for Miranda and had decided to get revenge for all the times Emily had been spiteful to her. Well, payback was apparently a bitch, because now Emily would lose her job for sure.

She was just opening her drawers to see what she had, if anything, that would be permitted to be taken with her, when the door to the outer office opened.

"Well, it's about bloody time, And-" Emily's voice trailed off and her eyes bugged out when she looked up to find Justin Timberlake standing before her instead of Andy Sachs. He flashed her a smile.

"You must be Emily."

"I – I – "

"You're just like Andy described you. I think these -" he held up an envelope, "are what you needed?"

Emily snatched the envelope from him and ripped it open, finding three tickets for the SexyBack Dance Club and three lanyards with 'All Access' written on them. "I could kiss you!"

Justin laughed. "You're welcome. Sorry I was a couple minutes late. Traffic was a bit of a nightmare. Plus, you know, dodging paparazzi."

Emily wasn't typically a starstruck kind of person. She saw famous people day in and day out coming to be featured in the magazine. But there was something about the singer in front of her that had her feeling like a school girl again. Damn Andy Sachs and her luck to be dating him. "Oh, well, yes, it's – it's fine. No problem at all. I just – I – thank you."

He laughed again and Emily thought she might swoon. "Not a problem. Andy said it was really important so… I figured I'd better deliver them myself." He glanced down at his watch. "But now, I've really got to get back to Andy. I sort of left her in the lurch to do this." He wore an impish smile, and Emily's stomach flipped as she thought about what 'left her in the lurch' could mean.

And the words spilled out before she could stop them. "Really? I mean, Andrea Sachs. When you could have anyone. She's a size six! I just don't – what does everyone see in her?"

Silence fell over the office and Justin looked almost perplexed as he stared at Emily. When he answered, his voice and face were serious. "Andy Sachs is an amazing woman. She's brilliant and funny and she goes above and beyond in everything she does. She's also incredibly loyal," and at this, his eyes seemed to pierce Emily before flitting over to the glass doors that led to Miranda's office, and then landing back on her, "even to people who probably don't deserve it. She's beautiful inside and out. It would be a privilege to date her, to have her give even a part of that huge heart of hers to you, and I feel bad for anyone who can't see that. "

With that, he left the office, leaving Emily and Miranda who had been listening intently to the conversation from her office, speechless.

**

Andy was typing on her laptop when Justin walked in. "How did it go?" She asked, looking up at him. Her hair was twisted up in a messy bun which had a pencil stuck in it, and a pen was resting behind her ear. He thought she looked adorable.

"It went very much like you thought it would. Emily is an interesting character."

"That she is. Was she rude to you?"

He settled down across from her. "Not to me, no. She seemed rather starstruck by seeing me. She was, however, rude to you."

"What?"

"She commented on our dating, on why I would be with you when I could have anyone and you're a size six."

Andy laughed. "Oh, Em. I've missed her."

"You've missed her criticizing you?" Justin looked surprised.

"No. I mean, yes, kind of. It's just… that's Emily. She thinks everyone has to be a size zero and be completely fashionable and perfect. Otherwise, they're a waste of time."

"Well, I don’t think you're a waste of time at all. And I told her so."

Andy laughed. "Oh Mr. Timberlake, flattery will get you everywhere."

"Here's hoping so." He winked at her. "Now, I believe that we have some activities to attend to, and that you are wearing all the wrong clothes."

Andy laughed harder.

**

The girls were very excited about the tickets their mother had procured, especially because they hadn't asked for them. Still, they loved Justin Timberlake, and wouldn't question their mother's motives, not when it meant they got to see him live in concert and go backstage afterwards.

Miranda was not at all amused by the crowds of screaming fans, but her daughters seemed pleased, and that was all that mattered. That was why she had done this. Not for any other reason.

The first half of the show had been fine. The girls had adored it, yelling and dancing and being excited that they were so close that they could touch Justin when he came by them. Miranda had to admit that he was a fabulous entertainer and she could obviously tell why he was so popular. He wore clothing well and she was considering the possibility of having him appear in Runway.

It was after the intermission though, when she really began to take an interest in the show. The first song he sang in the second half of the show was one that Miranda recognized as being the song he had done at the Super Bowl with Janet Jackson when the now infamous 'wardrobe malfunction' had occurred. As she watched, Justin's female backup dancers took the stage. Instantly, Miranda recognized one of them who had not been there before.

Wearing white shorts and a tied up plaid shirt that exposed not only her toned stomach but also her yellow bra, was Andrea. Miranda watched, her eyes glued to the younger woman, as she moved in time with the other dancers. She was sure that no one would notice that a switch had occurred in the dancers. No one but her.

She watched as Justin sang "Just wanna rock you girl" and Andy splayed herself over him, before turning and walking away with him following, beckoning him with her finger in an obviously choreographed move. Then Justin came up behind her, but his hand on her hip, and they moved in unison in a move that, while not highly sexual, definitely had undertones. Miranda found her hands clenching into fists as she watched the display.

The song continued, and Andrea continued to move along with the other dancers as though she had always been one of them. She did not, however, dance with Justin again, a fact for which Miranda was glad. And when the song ended, she was gone.

Miranda continued to watch the stage for her, but the girl was nowhere to be seen, and part of her wondered if she hadn't just imagined the entire thing. The girls acted as though they had not noticed anything out of the ordinary, their eyes glued to Justin the entire time.

Miranda was becoming impatient with the concert by the time that Justin began singing Cry Me A River. She fully intended to go backstage right after the show ended to see if she could catch Andrea there. She couldn't put her finger on why she cared so much, but she certainly did.

When the song ended, Justin grabbed a water bottle and addressed them all. "New York City." The crowd went wild. "What's up? This next song, before I sing it, I've gotta tell you something about someone you'll see on the stage during it. She's actually already been out here with me tonight, rocking her body, but she's gonna join me again for this song, which I'm dedicating to her. So give it up for Andy Sachs, y'all. Here we go, one, two, three, four!" And then he threw his water all over the crowd he was gathered in front of.

Some of it hit Miranda, but she was too stunned to even notice. The words 'Andy Sachs' were playing over and over in her mind.

Seemingly from nowhere, Andy appeared, in the same outfit from before. Justin began to sing.

_"If you're freaky and you know it_  
If you're freaky and you like it  
Put your hands up" 

Andrea was beside him, leaning over and pressing herself against him.

_"She grabs that yellow bottle  
She likes the way it hits her lips"_

She spun and bit her pointer finger, her eyes dancing.

_"She gets to the bottom_  
It sends her on a trip so right  
She might be going home with me tonight" 

She bent down in a provocative way, then turned and pressed herself to Justin again, this time sliding down his side, her hand dangerously close to his pelvis. She came back up and turned, Justin behind her, the two moving in unison again. Then she headed for the steps with him following.

_"She looks like a model  
Except she's got a little more ass"_

At the top of the steps she turned so her back was to the audience, and then bent down, reaching through her legs to slap her own ass as Justin sang the lyrics. Miranda felt a shot of desire surge through her, and bit down hard on her lips.

_"Don't even bother unless you've got that thing she likes  
Oh, I hope she's going home with me tonight"_

Again Justin came up behind her, pressing against her, with his arm wrapped around her front. Her hands come down and reached back, holding his ass as they swayed together. Miranda tasted blood in her mouth.

At the chorus, all the girls came out and danced while he sang. Miranda couldn't take her eyes off Andrea. During the next verse, the girls disappeared, and Justin came to sing right in front of the pit where they were. As he sang, it almost looked like Justin was searching for someone, and then, his eyes found Miranda.

_"She's flawless like some fresh cut ice  
I hope she's going home with me tonight"_

He sang it directly to her and the message, to Miranda, was clear. Andrea was going home with him that night. Her blood boiled.

She didn't hear the rest of the song. Instead, images of Andrea dancing in that outfit kept replaying in her mind. The way that she had moved with him, the way that lovers would move.

Miranda was oblivious as Justin sang SexyBack with Timbaland and the whole arena went berserk. She only really came to attention when she realized that Justin was back, alone at a piano for his encore. He sang through the song that she didn't recognize, and then, at the end, all of his band members and dancers came back out on the stage.

Andrea stood right next to him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist as they took their bows. Andrea's smile was brighter than she'd ever seen it before.

"Hey! Isn't that Mom's old assistant with Justin?" Cassidy asked suddenly. Miranda could say nothing.

**

It took them far too long to get backstage. The crowds were impossible to get through, and even once they got to the backstage entrance, there was some discussion and much checking of their passes before they were allowed back. They were escorted to where Justin would be by two large men who Miranda assumed to be bodyguards.

They heard them before they reached them, the sounds of laughter and shouts coming down the hallway. When they came into sight, everyone was wet – with what? – and holding cups with alcohol in. Again, Andrea was beside Justin, close to him, touching his shoulder and laughing.

"Hey, J, you've got visitors." One of the men called.

Justin turned, and Andy with him, to look at the three women. Andy's eyes widened, as though she'd forgotten that she was the reason Miranda had backstage passes. "Miranda!" She gasped.

Justin's arm slid to Andy's waist in a move that Miranda didn't miss. "Ah." He smiled. "You must be the Miranda that Andy's told me all about. Which means that you two must be Caroline and Cassidy."

The girls squealed at his recognition of them. Miranda's eyes traveled up and down Andrea, taking in her appearance, and realizing that the wetness clinging to Andrea's body and hair was champagne. Andy tried not to fidget under the gaze.

Justin talked to the girls and signed their programs and t-shirts for them.

"Can we get a picture?" Caroline asked.

"Sure." Justin smiled. Andy took the camera before she was even asked, and snapped off various shots of the girls with Justin together and individually.

"Thanks."

"Not a problem at all." Andy smiled. Even though they were little monsters, they were still cute.

Caroline eyed her for a few seconds, and then, with all the bluntness of her mother, asked, "So are you really dating him? Is that why you were dancing tonight?"

"Um…"

"Andy was with me tonight because it was important to her, and to me." Justin supplied, his arm going back around her waist again.

"You dedicated Lovestoned to her. Do you really think she looks like a model except for her…"

"Woah." Andy interrupted quickly. Somehow she was sure Miranda wouldn't find her daughter saying 'ass' amusing.

"I think Andy is very beautiful, yes." The girls shrugged.

"How about we show you girls some dance moves?" One of the other female dancers cut in.

"Yeah!" The girls were very excited by this prospect and quickly went off with the dancers to learn the steps.

Miranda stayed put, her gaze still focused solely on Andy. "So, you've left The Mirror to become a backup dancer."

Andy blinked. How did Miranda know that she had left The Mirror? "No."

"It seems you've managed to reach fame on Page Six, almost to rival mine. You must be proud."

"Miranda, that's not –"

"No, no. I told you once that everyone wants to be us. You disagreed. But here you are, drenched in champagne, on the arm of a rich and famous man. It seems you ran rather quickly back to that life. Did you miss hanging on that much?"

Andy reached physically as though she'd been struck. The words were laced with such cruelty and ice that they stung doubly.

Justin moved to stand in front of Andy. "Look, I don't know who you think you are, or what you think Andy's done, but I suggest that you leave right now, and that you don't ever speak to her that way again. My mother raised me to never raise a hand to a woman and to always treat them with respect, so that's what I'll do. But I am respectfully telling you to get out of here. Johnny!" One of the bodyguards was beside him in an instant. "Mrs. Priestly and her children were just leaving. Would you please see that they find their way out of the arena, please?"

Johnny moved toward her. "Come along girls. We're done here." And with that, she was gone.

A single tear slipped down Andy's cheek as Miranda's words played over in her head.

**

A week later, Miranda arrived at the office to find a small white box laying on her desk, a white envelope attached with her name written on it. She pulled out the contents of the envelope to find a single piece of white cardstock. On it was a short message.

_'Definitely not just a backup dancer. And definitely not hanging on to anyone. Or at least not hanging on to me. – JT'_

Intrigued, Miranda pulled open the box. Inside, nestled under tissue paper, was a copy of Rolling Stone, although by the date on it, Miranda could tell that it was an advance. Justin was on the cover, a woman with long dark hair with her naked back to the camera, her arms up over his neck, was kneeling in front of him. The words 'Andy Sachs Goes Inside Justin Timberlake's FutureSex/LoveShow' were emblazoned beside the picture.

Quickly, Miranda flipped through, finding the page where the article started. Again there was a picture of Justin, this time with Andy in the pose from 'Lovestoned', her hands on his ass and his arm around her.

_"Now, I believe that we have some activities to attend to, and that you are wearing all the wrong clothes." Those are words that every woman wishes she could hear coming out of Justin Timberlake's mouth, and this writer was lucky enough to hear them. Sadly, though, he wasn't talking about us making some 'FutureSex/LoveSounds', but instead about me changing into workout clothes so we could practice choreography._

_Yes, that's right, in case you haven't figure it out by now, I'm 'Timberlake's Mystery Woman', the one Page Six has been salivating over. But don't worry, ladies, Justin isn't actually taken (at least not by me). All those shots on Page Six that made it look like we were in a relationship were really shots of us spending time together before Justin's 'FutureSex/LoveShow' at Madison Square Garden on the 15th and 16th, the latter being recorded for an HBO special. For reasons I still don't quite understand, but that I thank my lucky stars for every day, I was asked to spend the week with Justin and his band, seeing all that goes into the live shows, conducting interviews with them, and, at Justin's urging, even getting in on the act. And while the band, dancers, and Justin certainly put on one hell of a fun show, the preparation isn't always a ball. Read on to find out about my experiences over the week and to see my exclusive interview with Justin and his 'family on the road'._

The article continued, chronicling the week Andy had spent, including the very late night dance rehearsals and all the shared meals, and then went into an interview with Justin and the rest of the band and crew. Andrea presented it all in a way that made the reader feel as though they were actually there with her for the whole experience, and she asked questions that were thoughtful and got great responses. It was obvious, even to those who had not seen them together as she had, that a chemistry and rapport had developed between the writer and the singer, which made the piece all the better.

Miranda walked out of the office, the magazine still held in her hand.

**

It had taken some searching, but Miranda found Andy sitting at a table in the back of a small coffee shop five blocks from the Elias-Clarke building. She watched as Andy typed away at her laptop, notes and pens scattered around her.

"Rolling Stone." She said, as a way of greeting.

Andy looked up, her fingers still moving across the keys. "Miranda."

Miranda held the magazine up. "It's a good article."

"For a backup dancer who's just hanging on to him for the fame." Andy looked back at the computer screen, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"For a woman that I didn't know was working for Rolling Stone."

Andy's fingers finally stopped. "I'm not. At least, not exclusively. I'm freelancing."

"When did this happen?"

"I wasn't getting anywhere at The Mirror. I worked my ass off for them but everyone else kept getting promoted and I kept getting the crappy assignments. So I turned in my notice and started freelancing. At first it was just a bunch of crappy jobs, but then I got the call from Rolling Stone about the Justin article."

"Rolling Stone called you?"

"A nobody." Andy filled in what she hadn't said. "Yeah. It turns out that Justin's publicist's new assistant used to work over at Calvin Klein and… I don't know how or why but… she remembered me. And she knew that I had left Runway and was working at The Mirror. Rolling Stone wanted to do the article on Justin, but he was kind of hesitant. Amy told Justin's publicist that she thought I would be the perfect person for the interview, they agreed and told Rolling Stone that was their condition. And the rest is history."

"It's a good article." Miranda repeated.

"Thank you." Andy nodded, her fingers once again finding the keys. Silence fell and Miranda felt uncomfortable standing there as Andy typed.

"The things that I said to you…" she swallowed, "were uncalled for."

Andy's eyes flew up to meet hers. "Yeah. They were. And not only that, but they were hurtful."

"I didn't intend…"

"Don't." Andy said, hitting some buttons and then shutting her laptop. "Don't say that you didn't intend to hurt me, because we both know that you did. You don't do anything without thinking, Miranda. You knew exactly what you were saying and you knew exactly what it would do to me." The laptop was shoved in her messenger bag, which she shouldered. "I have apologized for Paris. I thought we'd gotten past it. Maybe we didn't. Maybe you really are just an ice queen who doesn't forgive or forget anything. I don't know. But I do think that we're done here."

Andy moved to leave, but Miranda's hand flew out and grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Andy spun to face her. "You don't get to walk out again. Not until we finish this."

"What is there left to say, Miranda? No matter what I do, you're always going to look at me as your greatest disappointment, the assistant who left, the backup dancer who clings to fame any way she can. I had thought that – I mean, there for a while it was almost as if – but I was wrong. And I'm tired of being your disappointment. And I'm tired of feeling like you've stuck a knife in my gut every time you cut me down verbally. So I'm leaving."

Miranda's fingers curled harder around Andy's arm. "When the first pictures showed up on Page Six, I didn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. But then when I called you… you made no effort to correct my assumptions. And then when you saw the other pictures, you acted as though you were dating him."

"Miranda."

"He cares about you, Andrea. More than a singer cares about someone who is interviewing them."

"And? What does it matter? Why do you care? I mean, unless you…" Andy's eyes widened as she stared at Miranda. "I told you that he could rip my clothes off if he wanted. And you hung up on me."

Miranda said nothing.

"And you didn't call when the pictures of me leaving his building hit Page Six. You were the only one who didn't call."

Still, Miranda said nothing.

"And at the concert, your eyes… I could feel you watching me, even when I didn't know where you were. And afterwards, backstage, when you saw us together and me covered in champagne. You… you were angry?"

Miranda's nostrils flared just slightly, but no sound came from her.

"You were jealous."

"I thought you were being ridiculous. Allowing yourself to become his girlfriend, giving up everything you'd worked for, letting him debase you in public."

"He didn't debase me! We danced together."

"He touched you. Provocatively. And he…"

"What?"

"He said that you were loyal to people who didn't deserve it."

"You thought my loyalties had changed. Switched. From you to him. But I don't work for you anymore. I don't -"

Miranda finally released Andy's arm, sighing impatiently. "I thought I had made it clear to you. The dinners and phone calls. I don't do that with just anyone, Andrea."

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying? Are you telling me that… that in your mind we've been, what? Dating? And I was somehow… cheating on you with him?"

"I saw your priorities shifting. I didn't like it."

"Oh my god. Miranda!"

"I have seen what my professional life is like without you in it. I don't wish to find out what my personal life would be like without you."

Andy blinked. "And you couldn't tell me that? You couldn't say those words to me? Instead, you had to say such hurtful things and act like I was in the wrong for being in a relationship when you had made absolutely no indication, at all, that you felt anything for me, besides thinly veiled disgust?"

"Would I have invited you to dinners or called you on the phone if I felt only thinly veiled disgust for you, Andrea?"

"I don't know! I don't know, because you don't ever say anything. You don't ever express your feelings besides to say hurtful things."

"You want me to express my feelings? When I saw those pictures, I had never felt angrier. How dare he touch you? How dare he? And how dare you let him?"

"God, Miranda, I let him, because I didn't think that you ever would!"

At those words, Miranda once again grabbed Andy's arm and pulled her through the coffee shop and out to the waiting car. "Home, Roy." She commanded, before she raised the privacy screen and turned on Andy, who was sitting looking incredibly surprised by this turn of events.

"Miranda?"

Miranda growled, before she pulled Andy forward and claimed her lips. "The only person who will be causing you to have a wardrobe malfunction from now on will be me. Do you understand, Andrea?"

"Ye-yes." Andy gasped.

"Good." And with that, Miranda ripped Andy's blouse open.

**

The next day, a bottle of champagne arrived at Andy's apartment, along with a copy of Justin's FutureSex/LoveSound CD. The card attached read _'You're welcome. – JT'_.

That night, Andy did have Miranda naked by the end of that song.  



End file.
